


Four Encounters in the Greenhouse

by TheFandomLesbian



Series: Angela's Raulson One-Shots [23]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Romance, foxxay - Freeform, goode-day, pre-Seven Wonders, raulson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 19:25:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17351159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFandomLesbian/pseuds/TheFandomLesbian
Summary: Three times, Cordelia didn't say what she felt.Once, she did.





	Four Encounters in the Greenhouse

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt requesting an expansion on who made the first move in Foxxay.

I.

Cordelia tapped her way into the greenhouse. Her cane bumped against the door jamb, and she stepped over it without much consideration, only to bump her hip against the table. The jarring upset a pot. She dropped her cane and clawed at the air to catch it, but it gusted right past her hands. “Oop!” The pot didn’t shatter on the ground. “I gotcha.” Cordelia released a pent-up sigh at the sound of Misty’s quietly accented voice as she caught the potted plant in her hands and replaced it on the table. “Hey, Miss Cordelia!”

The smile on Misty’s voice was palpable. Cordelia smiled in return. She had a bunch of questions for Misty—more questions than she liked to consider—but she didn’t know where to begin, so she avoided them for the time being. “Hi, Misty. Sorry.” 

“Oh, you’re fine. This one needs repotted, anyway—you would’ve saved me the time.” Misty wiped off her hands on her dress. “You alright? I can get right outta your way, just say the word—I’m just dodging Madison, hanging out down here.” 

“No, no!” Cordelia imagined there was very little she could do in the greenhouse now. Before, she spent her hours of fun trimming up the plants and making them beautiful, harvesting their fruits and drying their leaves and roots for potions ingredients, collecting everything useful and recycling the rest. But now, she couldn’t hold a pair of shears without her hands shaking, and she couldn’t tell which leaves were wilted and which ones were healthy just by feeling. “I was looking for you, actually.”  _ Looking for.  _

If Misty noticed, she didn’t say anything. “Oh, right. Well, you found me.” 

_ Yeah. I sure did.  _ Cordelia bit her lower lip and inclined her eyebrows. “I was just—” She tried to shuffle out of Misty’s way, but she bumped up against the table again, and Misty took her by the hand and led her away from the obstacle course. The warm skin of Misty’s hand pressed against hers. Visions responded in kind—picking up a deceased animal from the road and breathing life into it, strolling through the swampy forests and dense undergrowth of the bayou, feeding a squirrel from the palm of her hand—and Cordelia marveled at the purity of Misty’s life. The other people she touched sent her visions of horrible things. Even hugging Stevie Nicks had prompted her with images of line after line of cocaine. Yet Misty had nothing dark on her past, nothing marring her soul, to appear in Cordelia’s Sight. “I’m sorry.” Misty didn’t take her hand away. She didn’t seem to care. “I was wondering if you knew anything about the man who tried to kill you.” 

Mentioning it flared memories to the surface, Misty guiding Myrtle by the hand through the trees and crouching into ditches and ducking into water holes for safety until the silhouette of the intruder vanished with the coming sunrise. “I don’t know anything about him, no. Figure it was just somebody trying to end the game of ‘burn the witch.’”

Misty still didn’t let go of her hand. No one had touched Cordelia for so long since she had lost her sight. Fiona, who claimed to support her through this great adventure of her life, dodged her touch more than ever before. The girls were shy of her and ducked out of her way wherever she walked—though that was probably a good thing to keep her from falling all over them. Even Myrtle hesitated a little longer than usual before hugging her. Misty held onto her hand easily. Dirt and grit on her skin ground between their two limbs. “I’m concerned it might have been more than that.” 

“What are you thinking?” 

Her blunt question was comforting. Misty wanted to know what she thought and asked her opinion frankly. Cordelia squeezed her hand. “We know there are witch hunters in the area.” She could almost hear the sound of the gears turning in Misty’s head. “Did anyone know where you were staying? Anyone at all?” 

She hesitated to answer. “No… Nobody but Zoe and Kyle and Madison.”

_ Of course.  _ Cordelia didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to her before. Someone had brought Madison back to life. Zoe didn’t have magic powerful enough to achieve such a feat, even if she showed many signs of being the next Supreme. Anyone who had been paying attention could have pieced it together. “Right.” Her brow quirked. “With Madison, how did you…” She didn’t know how to ask the question. Madison had been dead for more than a week when Misty had found her. It wasn’t a simple case of vitalum vitalis. 

In a rather offhand tone, Misty said, “Oh, it was pretty easy. I mean, she was half-rotten, but after we sewed her arm back on and got all of the death out of her, it was smooth sailing.” 

“You _ sewed her arm back on? _ ” 

“Yeah. Told Zoe I wouldn’t bring her back without the arm attached. Zoe’s not a very good seamstress, but I know enough. Stitched her up good as new. Barely a scar now.” 

This was all news to Cordelia, who raised her eyebrows. Misty was blase about the whole event. “That’s… That’s some really impressive magic, Misty.”  _ She brought Myrtle back, too.  _ Myrtle had been burned, surely suffering worse injuries than Cordelia could imagine, and she didn’t want to imagine them, nor did she want to linger on the way Misty’s memories flashed with the stench of gasoline and the taste of ash whenever she got occupied. “Have you considered what Myrtle said?” she asked after a brief hesitance. 

To her surprise, this question was the one that made Misty break contact with her. She turned away, pulling her hand away from Cordelia’s, and settled over one of the pots. “Yeah.” The tone to her voice dropped. 

Cordelia pursed her lips. “You’re not a fan?” 

“I don’t want to be anybody’s leader. I just want to find somewhere I belong.” 

“You have us, now.” 

Misty chuckled, but it was a dark and dry sound, nothing borne of true humor. “Zoe found me twice,” she said, “and both times wanted me to fix somebody who had died. I picked one of your own off of the stake. No offense, Miss Cordelia, but y’all have a  _ serious  _ problem of getting each other killed, and I don’t want no part of it.” 

The criticism took Cordelia aback. But it was a fair. “That’s why we need a Supreme to help us sort things out,” she said. “Fiona is fading, whether she likes it or not. She’s going to fall. We need her successor to do a better job.” 

“Who’s to say she won’t kill me before I get the chance?” 

“Who’s to say she can kill you?” Misty had come back to life once after dying to the method witches usually considered most lethal. What could Fiona do to prevent Misty from coming back to life over and over again until the seesaw of death and magic finally snapped on the side of the rightful winner? “There won’t be anything she can do about it.” 

A slight scoff came from Misty. “You’ve got a whole lot of faith in this whole order of events thing, don’t you?” 

Cordelia’s eyebrows knitted together. “Yeah. I do.” 

“Fiona’s been doing this long enough to know exactly what she’s going to do. I’d rather not be in her crosshairs. The whole lot of y’all talk about the future Supreme like she’s a chess piece and not a person. Not a witch, just like the rest of us. Whether or not it’s me—and I really don’t think it is—how would you feel if everybody but you was making gambles on your life?” 

“I hadn’t thought of it that way.” 

Shears snipped, a familiar sound, but only once. “I’m not the one you’re looking for, Miss Cordelia.” She held out a flower to Cordelia. The petals tickled the tip of her nose. She leaned forward to inhale the scent—familiar and sweet and mild. 

She tilted her head back. “Amaryllis.” Misty took the stem of the flower and tucked it beneath the earpiece of her sunglasses. Cordelia’s belly did a flip. An ocean of butterflies rose up from inside of her. “I think you are the one.” As Misty’s hand brushed over the auricle of her ear and tucked her hair behind it, another vision flashed behind her eyes. Misty gazed at her, and her mind echoed,  _ God, she’s so beautiful. _ Cordelia’s mouth dried up. “I think it’s you,” she repeated. 

Misty’s hand left the side of her face. Cordelia reached on reflex to take it again, and Misty allowed her to do it. She pressed Cordelia’s palm to her own face. “And I think it’s you,” she countered. “But nobody really knows who it is, and it’s not my job to make somebody else’s life into my poker chip. What if you get some new witch, and she’s even worse than Fiona?”

“Is that what you think? That you won’t be any good at it?”

“I know I won’t be any good at it.” Cordelia trailed her thumb over Misty’s high cheekbone and her nose and lips. “Especially with the witch hunters. Clearly I don’t have a way to fix that, and I don’t know how to protect anything—not even myself.” 

_ She’s thought about this a lot.  _ “Just the fact that you’re saying all that means you’d care more than Fiona does.” Misty had a pure heart and a vicious loyalty to that which earned her allegiance—she watched, in Misty’s memories, as two revived alligators killed the men who had poached them. Misty’s jaw shifted under Cordelia’s hand and popped dully at the joint, but she didn’t say anything in answer. Cordelia cleared her throat. “I want you to know that I’ll stand by you. Whether you are the Supreme or not, you have a place in this coven. I’d like to be your friend.” 

Misty had endured a lot. Cordelia saw the memories of Misty’s life whenever their skin touched, and she found the hours Misty had spent alone heartbreaking—and yet, somehow, they reminded her of herself. Misty had emerged from the other side of hell, from the other side of the fire, just as kind as when she had entered. Another snip followed. “Thank you, Miss Cordelia.” Misty’s hand grazed the side of her face, spinning another set of petals beneath her nose. 

She smiled. “Alstroemeria.” 

The stem fit under the earpiece of her sunglasses on the other side. Cordelia’s face blushed with heat which she couldn’t banish. “I’d like to be your friend, too.” But Misty’s skin brushed hers, and the touch betrayed her thoughts.  _ She’s pretty as a sunrise the morning before a storm.  _

When Cordelia left the greenhouse, her stomach whipped up into a tumultuous tornado. It had taken one encounter. Cordelia had fallen hopelessly in love with Misty Day. 

* * *

 

II.

A spring bounced into Cordelia’s step as she fled the academy, unburdened by her cane for the first time in weeks. She could  _ see _ , and the colors were all so much brighter than before. She paused outside the greenhouse to admire the vegetable garden Misty had planted around it, and then she knocked twice on the door and pushed the doors open.

She had never  _ seen _ Misty before. It occurred to her now, as she entered the building, and her heart floundered into her throat. She knew Misty by touch, her high cheekbones and sharp nose and the bow to her lips and the curly texture of her hair. “Misty?” she called into the greenhouse. The tape of Fleetwood Mac clued in her presence, and as she called out, “Misty?” a second time, a distinct mop of blonde curls appeared from behind a glossy-leaved philodendron plant. 

The sight of her took Cordelia’s breath away. She gaped with her mouth open as she stared into the other woman’s blue eyes. No sound came from her. Fortunately, though, Misty didn’t seem to notice. She grinned. Her smile stole Cordelia’s heart right out of her chest, reaching into it with grabbing hands and snatching it from between her ribs. She didn’t know what she had expected—she knew she liked Misty, so she should have expected to find Misty attractive—but the sheer allure to the other woman made her dizzy. Or perhaps the lack of breathing made her dizzy, or a combination of the two. “Hey, Miss Cordelia! Miss Myrtle said she wasn’t sure when you’d be ready to come out. I’m glad to see you.” 

The sound of her voice helped ground Cordelia in reality. It was the same Misty who touched her all the time without thought and tucked flowers behind her ears. Not a different person. “Myrtle worries too much. I’m fine.” She smiled in response to Misty’s words, and she said, “I’m glad to  _ see _ you, too,” with a wink.

Misty laughed. “Your eyes are wicked cool. Were they always like that?” 

Cordelia shook her head. “Myrtle has an artistic touch. I think she did it to irritate my mother.” She hadn’t missed the heated exchange between Myrtle and Fiona over the color of her eyes. “Frankly, I don’t care what color they are. I can see out of them. That’s what matters.” One eye was a little blurrier than the other. She wondered if she had somehow wound up with one eye requiring glasses. 

“You got your head on straight, then. Come here, will you show me that thing you told me to do the other day? I had it, then, but now it’s not working now.” 

Misty took it in stride. She didn’t draw special attention to Cordelia or fawn over. To her, nothing about Cordelia had changed at all, and Cordelia appreciated that more than she let on. “Sure.” She sidled up beside Misty over a wilty bunch of lamb’s ear. “Do you remember the incantation?” 

“Yeah. It’s just not wanting to bloom for me.” Misty squinted at the plant, like she tried to figure out its secrets. She repeated the Latin incantation. The leaves quivered and rose a little, but then they wilted again. “I tried it with those others, too, and they all perked right up. This one’s being tricky. It’s got something up its sleeves.” 

“It’s a plant. It doesn’t have sleeves.” 

“Oh, you know what I mean.” Cordelia chuckled. One of her hands landed on the small of Misty’s back. Misty scrunched up her freckled nose as she gazed down at the fuzzy-leaved plant. “What am I doing wrong?” 

Cordelia bit her lower lip. No one had ever asked her about magic before, not when it came to performing. Her own abilities were limited enough for younger witches to distrust her. But Misty didn’t see any of that. “I think you’re trying too hard. Don’t force it. Sometimes the plants are fickle about being asked or being told.” 

Misty raised her eyebrows and blinked back at Cordelia. “So a plant doesn’t have sleeves, but it can tell the difference between me telling it to do something and asking it nicely?” she asked in a skeptical voice. Cordelia shrugged. “Alright.” Misty accepted her word as the law and repeated the incantation, this time in a quieter, gentler voice. As Cordelia had predicted, the lamb’s ear fanned out its soft leaves into the sunlight, as if to smile at Misty. “Thanks! You were right!” 

“How do you do it with the vegetables in the garden? Isn’t it the same spell?” 

A wrinkle appeared in the middle of Misty’s forehead. “Spell? I don’t use a spell for the vegetables. I just do what comes natural. You told me to use the made up words for these plants, so that’s what I was doing.” 

_ Made up words.  _ Cordelia decided to correct that misconception at a later date. “Well—try that on one of these. See if it works.” Clearly, Misty had a gift for botany. She seemed to have a gift for almost everything. Cordelia took a pot of drooping sage and put it in front of Misty. 

Misty pursed her lips. She pressed both of her hands on top of the soil and framed the plant between her thumbs and index fingers. Then she spat into the soil. The plant arched upward and flushed back green, brighter than before. “There… You were right again.” 

The tip of Cordelia’s nose crinkled. “Do you spit in the vegetables? We’ve been eating those.” 

“If you’re worried about my spit, you’re gonna die when I tell you what goes in fertilizer.” 

The sharp delivery to Misty’s voice made Cordelia break out in laughter. She tossed her head back, pressing a hand to her temple in incredulity. How did Misty manage to somehow be both so honest and so kind? So funny and so intelligent? Misty took a lock of her hair and split it into two strands, and she started a loose braid with the stem of a fresh-cut gardenia. “You’re going to have all the flowers in the greenhouse cut at this rate.” Cordelia blushed at the way Misty’s tender fingertips caressed her skin and her hair.

Blue eyes met hers, and they smiled, too, crinkled with joy. “Then it’s a good thing you’re teaching me how to grow them all back, right?” 

Cordelia held very still for Misty to tie the stem at the end of the braid. She had a collection of the flowers in her room, now, pressing the petals dry between pages of her grandmother’s Bible so she could save them. “You’re very kind, Misty.”  _ I like you a lot. I think I’m in love with you.  _ The last two pieces were too hard to say and far too unwelcome to Misty, who had never known genuine friendship before and who undoubtedly would take her attraction as a betrayal. “Have you tried any other magic?” 

“What other magic?” 

“I mean… like telekinesis. Or pyrokinesis. Or transmutation.”

Misty snorted. “Listen, I watched  _ Matilda _ and I know what telekinesis is, but those last two you’re gonna have to break down for somebody who didn’t get an education.” 

What had she expected? Misty hadn’t grown up in the coven and didn’t know anything about the seven wonders. “Pyrokinesis is when you control fire at will.” 

Pale, dirty hands retreated from Cordelia’s hair where they braided the gardenia behind her ear. “I got burned to death. I think if I could control fire, I would’ve figured it out then.” 

“Sometimes coming back to life changes things. You healed Madison’s heart murmur.”

“What’s the other one?” Misty didn’t want to keep talking about fire, and Cordelia didn’t blame her, but she gave her a sideways glance and found a layer of tears on the surface of Misty’s eyes, disguised as she retreated into a shadow cast by a nearby leaf.  _ She thinks about it all the time.  _

She let the subject go. She didn’t want to push Misty. “Transmutation is when you teleport. Like  _ Star Trek. _ ”

Misty perked up a little. “I did that. With Zoe. I didn’t mean to, though, it was an accident. I popped up in the back of her car and scared her half to death.” 

“Have you tried to do it again?”

She shook her head, quirking her lower lip. “Nah. It made me feel kinda sick the first time. My back teeth started rattling, and I got really uncomfortable, like I had a fever or something.”  _ It sounds like the feeling of becoming Supreme.  _ Cordelia had heard fables after fables of how the new Supreme new she had begun to rise. She bit the tip of her tongue, wondering if she needed to share her thoughts with Misty. “You’re looking at me funny. What’s on your mind?” 

Clearing her throat, Cordelia said, “Strange or unusual discomfort with performing new magic is a—a sign of becoming the new Supreme. It’s part of the transference of power.” 

Misty’s eyes darted upward, but she didn’t roll them. “You and your Supreme business. Don’t you ever think about something else?” Cordelia opened her mouth, but Misty took her hand. “It’s not me. I’m telling you it’s not me. I can’t do any of the things you just mentioned. Name me some more—I bet I can’t do them, either.” 

“You just told me you can do one of them.” 

“It’s not me,” Misty repeated. “See? Watch this.” She held out her hand and squinted across the room at a vase of cut roses. The vase hurtled across the room and landed in the palm of her hand. “Goddammit, that was  _ not _ supposed to work. I didn’t even know I could do that!” Cordelia took the vase away from her. “Listen—it doesn’t matter how much magic I can do. I’m still not the Supreme.”

“You can’t escape it by aggressively not wanting it.” 

“I’m not escaping anything, Miss Cordelia.” Cordelia replaced the vase with her hand own hand in Misty’s. Her skin was soft and familiar.  _ I’m in love with the way she feels, the way she sounds, the way she looks.  _ Everything about Misty was an addictive toxin for Cordelia, and she just kept pouring more and more of it into her body without any thought for the consequences. “I can do anything while I’ve got you at my side.” 

Cordelia’s heart skipped a beat at Misty’s words.  _ You’ll have me at your side. You won’t be able to get rid of me.  _ She swallowed around the thickness in her throat which marveled at Misty’s sheer goodness. “Then why don’t you want it?” Misty wanted her at her side as a friend, not as anything more, and Cordelia would not mess anything up by interfering. She was not in a position to desire a relationship, especially with her future Supreme. 

“It’s not that I don’t want it. I know myself. I know it’s not me.” 

“Then who do you think it is?”

“I already told you.” Round blue eyes found hers. “I think it’s you.”

Raising an eyebrow, Cordelia tilted her head. “What on earth makes you think that?” The first time Misty had said it, she had assumed it was a joke, but now, she saw the glint of seriousness in Misty’s blue eyes. 

Though she had only seen Misty’s face for the first time today, something about the way she smiled was familiar. She had heard the smile in her voice for weeks. Seeing it was like coming home to an old friend. “I think the magic is smart.” Misty tucked a lock of hair behind Cordelia’s other ear, though she didn’t make an effort to add another flower to her hair. “I think it knows exactly where to go to benefit the coven the most. And that’s with you. You’re the best leader. You care the most.” Misty blinked at her out of the corner of her eye. She lifted up Cordelia’s hand and placed it on her cheek just like before, and Cordelia mapped the familiar planes and noted the images accompanying everything she felt beneath her fingers. “I know I haven’t belonged to the coven very long,” she said, “but I’ve been a witch long enough to know that the magic is smarter than making me or Madison or Zoe the Supreme.” 

“The magic would be smart to make you our Supreme.” 

Misty chuckled. “That’s a matter of opinion.”

* * *

 

III.

The night had gone so late that even the crickets didn’t hum their tune. Only the owl betrayed the wee hour of the morning with his hoot. Cordelia tapped back into the greenhouse. She knew she would find Misty inside. “Misty?” She sensed the other witch’s aura somewhere in the building. 

She didn’t need to search. “I’m right here.” Misty touched her elbow. Cordelia faced her. “Are you okay?” Misty asked her in a low voice. A hesitant hand touched her cheek. Cordelia closed her eyes to keep the burning within them from reaching the surface. She couldn’t cry. Not now. Not when she had worked so hard to get Misty back. She needed to celebrate, and she needed to focus. Her girls were going to enter a dangerous series of tests in just a few days. She didn’t have time to mourn. 

Her lack of an answer gave Misty more than enough information. Misty hugged her tight. “I’m so sorry.” She kissed Cordelia’s cheek. In spite of everything, she found herself thinking,  _ I wish it were my lips. _ Misty held her there in the air, swaying back and forth to the beat of the silence—the unusual silence in the building that Misty always filled with music. Only their heartbeats syncopated against one another. Cordelia’s chest pressed against Misty’s. Misty hummed into her ear the tune of “Landslide” without singing any of the words. 

Her arms gave Cordelia comfort and strength. She didn’t need to shed a tear. “Thank you, Misty.” She turned her head. The blocky sunglasses bumped against Misty’s face, and she uttered a soft apology before she pulled away. Hugging Misty gave her a slideshow of memories that she didn’t have the heart to view right now. “I’m okay. I’ll be okay.” 

“Let me know if you need anything.” Misty tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and this time, her hands weren’t dirty from playing in the plants and the dirt. “I’ll give it to you. Anything.” Cordelia smiled in response. Then, Misty’s fingers brushed the rim of her sunglasses. Fearing she would try to remove them, Cordelia grabbed her by the wrist. “What happened?” Misty asked. 

She knew better than to tell a lie. Misty would see through it. Her magic was the old kind, and she had just a few days before she would rise to take the throne of Supreme. “I had to find you,” she answered simply. She held Misty’s hand in her own to keep her from reaching for the sunglasses. She didn’t know what, exactly, was behind the black lenses, but she knew she didn’t want Misty to see it. “My Sight was gone, and I needed you. So I had to get my Sight back.” She said it flatly. 

Misty hooked her fingers under the sunglasses. Cordelia swatted her hands away. “Let me see.” Cordelia shook her head, holding Misty’s hands tightly so she couldn’t reach for the glasses. “Let me see what I did to you.” 

“You didn’t do anything to me. I did it to myself. And I would do it again.” 

Alabaster hands wrapped up into hers like the bow tying around a gift. “I hope you didn’t do this for some half-cracked notion that I’m going to be your next great leader.” Misty’s voice shook. Cordelia wanted to wipe away her tears. “I’m not your Supreme, Miss Cordelia, and if you hurt yourself for the hope that I am—” 

“I didn’t.” She had hurt herself for Misty, definitely, but she had not done it to save her future Supreme. She had done it for a much more selfish reason. “I saved you because you’re my—” Her mouth dried. “You’re my friend.” Misty was  _ just _ her friend, no matter what else she wanted from the other woman. “I promised to be by your side, and I will be. No matter who rises.”

Cordelia took the liberty to press one hand to Misty’s cheek. She dabbed away the tears falling from her eyes with her thumb. “I’m not worth it, Miss Cordelia… I wasn’t worth it. You threw your eyes away.” 

Shaking her head, Cordelia negated the notion. “Blind people can live. I couldn’t live with myself, knowing I could have done something to save you and I didn’t do it.” She caressed Misty’s cheek with her thumb.  _ It’s her. It must be. All of her magic is Divination—she’s so intuitive, it must count. She can use telekinesis. She can transmute.  _ Cordelia had no doubt about Misty’s ability to perform the seven wonders. Misty would become the next Supreme.  _ Will I tell her then?  _ Cordelia inhaled long and deep through her nose, drinking in the sweet scent of Misty. Would she tell Misty how she felt once she became the Supreme?  _ No. She wants my help. If I tell her, I could scare her away.  _

Misty hugged her. “Do you want me to walk you up to bed?” she offered.

Cordelia blinked. Her eyelashes uncomfortably brushed the lenses of her sunglasses. “You’re staying down here, aren’t you?” She knew Misty kept a sleeping bag under the table for the nights when she didn’t feel like making the climb back up to her room. Misty nodded against her head. “No…” She trailed off.  _ I’d like to stay with you.  _ She bit her lower lip, afraid to ask. 

Misty knew. She always knew. “Do you want to stay with me?” 

* * *

IV.

The emptiness in Cordelia’s stomach throbbed as she followed the cracked sidewalk toward the greenhouse.  _ I need to say goodbye.  _ Oh, god, how it ached inside of her. She had been so wrong—so, so wrong—and it had cost Misty her life.  _ Misty was right. Misty was always right.  _ And the faulty mistake left her clutching nothing more than a handful of soot which soon vanished alongside its owner. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have recognized  _ everything _ Misty said accurately but the single most important thing to the coven? 

How had she missed it?

Head bowed down low, Cordelia swallowed hard outside the greenhouse. She pushed into the building with a soft swallow. 

Low tones from the tape player caught her attention, the guitar lick she knew by heart rising from the player. “Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night, and wouldn’t you love to love her?” Cordelia’s stomach flipped. Had Misty left it playing?  _ No, she couldn’t have. We were in here with Zoe.  _ “Rules her life like a bird in flight, and who will be her lover?” 

“Hey, Miss Cordelia.” 

Fat tears filled Cordelia’s eyes, and she took a moment to respond, wondering if she had imagined it. Was it a cruel trick of her imagination? She turned back over her shoulder, expecting to see nothing at all, praying for anything more than the saplings she had passed on her way into the building. And, there behind her, familiar golden locks and a timid smile written in blue eyes greeted her. “Oh, Misty!” She whirled around and caught Misty’s face between her hands. “Misty! You were right! You were right about everything!” Misty’s hands responded in turn, cradling Cordelia’s face in her palms. “Oh my god, I can’t believe—” Her tears overflowed, and she closed her eyes as a sob tore out of her chest. 

Misty dragged her into a tight hug. Cordelia buried her face in her neck. “Not to say I told you so,” she mumbled, “but this whole mess could have been avoided if you had  _ listened to me. _ ” Cordelia gave another broken sound, whimpering right into her skin. A yelp built in her throat and emerged, but nothing intelligent came out of her mouth. “Hey, hey, it’s alright…” Misty rocked her in the air like she had those days ago, but Cordelia wasn’t so easily consoled now. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. It just took me awhile to find my way back, that’s all…”

Cordelia’s hands roamed Misty’s face. She had feared she would never feel her face again. All of the patterns of her bones were the same. The freckles on her nose were the same. The shape of her eyes were the same. It was real. It was her. “I can’t believe—” Cordelia choked herself off. “I thought you were  _ dead! _ Oh my god, Misty—I love you!” The words emerged in her muted shout, louder than her speaking voice but softer than a true scream. She didn’t mean for the last part to pile on, but it did, and then she couldn’t keep herself from continuing. “I love you! I thought I would never see you again—I thought I lost you, I thought—I thought—” Her voice broke, and again, she dissolved into a heap. Misty dabbed away her tears with the pad of her thumb. “I love you,” she whispered, soft and broken. 

Earnest blue eyes bored into Cordelia’s. “I love you, too.” 

Cordelia dipped her down for a kiss. She kissed Misty long and hard. The salty taste of their tears blended together between them, but she didn’t allow it to sever their kiss until they needed to breathe, and then Misty’s soft pants wafted across her lips. “I’m sorry. I should have said something ages ago—”

“Me too.” Misty snipped off a pink carnation from its stem, and then she gathered up Cordelia’s hair in her hands. 

Cordelia grabbed her by the wrist. “Let me.” She took the carnation from Misty. A slight blush rose to Misty’s cheek, but she nodded, bowing her head a little so Cordelia could reach her hair with ease. “I’m so glad you’re alright. I was so afraid.” Her fingers trembled a little, but she formed a loose braid in Misty’s curls, and she spun the pink flower in between her locks. 

“A thousand armies couldn’t keep me away from you.” 

Cordelia’s heart flushed with warmth, and she swallowed hard. “How were you right about everything? About me, about—about everything? How did you know?” 

“Lucky guesses.” As Cordelia’s hands fell away from her face, Misty reached for her waist and pulled her nearer, face to face and chest to chest. “You were right about one thing, though,” she whispered as she brushed Cordelia’s caramel-colored hair back away from her face. 

“What was that?” 

Misty smiled. “This is where I belong. Here. With you… With you, really.” Cordelia blinked up at her with wide eyes, mesmerized by the glow upon Misty’s face, of which she never really tired. “I spent my whole life looking for my tribe… I never thought maybe my tribe was just one person.” She touched the tip of Cordelia’s nose. “I found her.” 

_ You sure did.  _ Cordelia bounced onto her tiptoes to plant another kiss on Misty’s lips, having nothing more to say but the lingering touches pressing her love into Misty’s skin. 


End file.
